


Apartment 4B

by angellwings



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gap Filler, Long Shot, One Shot, Pining, Supportive Matt Casey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: It’s been one week since Foster went back to med school and Casey knows it’s been hard on Brett. Not just because she misses Foster, but also because her temp partner is an idiotic windbag who continually tries to talk over her on calls. He believed Kidd referred to it as ‘mansplaining’ — as if Brett may not know what she’s doing. Casey, for some reason, takes personal offense to that implication. Brett is one of, if notThe, best paramedics in the CFD. Plus, PIC on 61.This Nelson moron has to go. Boden says they’re stuck with him for two more shifts, at least, and gave Matt his famous silencing glare when he tried to push back.“I am working on it, Casey. Until then Brett assured me she can manage.”Shewould. She never wants to be a problem or cause any tension in the house. Taking care of others is sewn into the fabric of her very being. Butsomeonehas to look out forher. And Casey’s decided that someone ishim.
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 31
Kudos: 216





	Apartment 4B

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** HELLO. How are we doing? Are we all alive? Did the premiere MURDER you too? Because I tell ya I am a ghost. We were fed SO INCREDIBLY WELL THAT I ALMOST CAN’T BELIEVE IT. Also, THAT PROMO FOR WEDNESDAY’S EPISODE? It’s like ALL MY FANFIC DREAMS COME TRUE. I cannot wait to see how it all goes down!
> 
> I’ve had a lot of people ask for me to write my take on the promo and honestly I haven’t really been inspired to do that. I want to see what Derek and Co do with it on Wednesday. I think it’ll be better than anything I could ever write (or that’s what I’m hoping anyway.) 
> 
> INSTEAD, I saw a lot of people talk about something else that DID inspire me:
> 
> How comfortable Casey was in Sylvie’s apartment and how he knew the layout and where the light switches were and how he came THUNDERING around that hallway corner as if he’d walked it a million times. THAT was something I was dying to explore.
> 
> So, here’s a bit of a fill in from 8x20 to 9x01. Hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> xoxo

_******_

_“And you've been hurt before,_

_And baby, so have I,_

_And when it's wrong, it's wrong,_

_But when it's right, it's like a movie._

_Standin' still but still you move me,_

_The whole world fades away,_

_All the colors change when you say my name._

_When it's right it's like a soundtrack,_

_That song that brings you right back,_

_That dim the lights, slow motion,_

_I feel the story runnin' through me,_

_Like a movie.”_

_-“Like A Movie” by Cam_

_******_

It’s been one week since Foster went back to med school and Casey knows it’s been hard on Brett. Not just because she misses Foster, but also because her temp partner is an idiotic windbag who continually tries to talk over her on calls. He believed Kidd referred to it as ‘mansplaining’ — as if Brett may not know what she’s doing. Casey, for some reason, takes personal offense to that implication. Brett is one of, if not _The_ , best paramedics in the CFD. Plus, PIC on 61.

This Nelson moron has to go. Boden says they’re stuck with him for two more shifts, at least, and gave Matt his famous silencing glare when he tried to push back.

“I am working on it, Casey. Until then Brett assured me she can manage.”

She _would_. She never wants to be a problem or cause any tension in the house. Taking care of others is sewn into the fabric of her very being. But _someone_ has to look out for _her_. And Casey’s decided that someone is _him_.

“She shouldn’t have to _manage_ ,” Casey mumbles to Severide as they’re all but pushed out of Boden’s office.

Severide smirks knowingly at him. “She’ll be fine. She’s handled worse than Nelson before. Is all of this,” he starts, pausing to gesture to Matt’s furrowed brow. “Really about _Nelson_ or something else entirely?”

“Something else as in?” Matt aske, cluelessly.

Severide’s expression flattens out into a dry glance. “Come on, man.”

He huffs and ignores Severide’s expression. “This is about Sylvie having enough on her plate without having to deal with — what did Kidd call him?”

“A mansplainer,” Kelly supplies with an amused grin.

“Without having to deal with a _mansplainer_ too.”

Severide shrugs but his grin never falters. “If you say so.”

He knows his friend doesn’t believe him. He wouldn’t believe him either. But his feelings are his alone and another thing Sylvie doesn’t need on her much too full plate. He also hasn’t entirely worked them out yet so for now they stay locked up in the box he’s put them in. He’ll deal with them later. Sylvie needs a friend _now_.

He forgoes stopping by his quarters and decides to finish up his paperwork in the common room. When he arrives, he finds Sylvie frowning at her iPad and swiping across the screen. She sighs in frustration and pushes a sunny blonde strand of hair out of her face.

Without giving it a single conscious thought, his feet take him to her. He takes up the chair next to hers, setting his stack of paperwork down in front of him. 

“Everything alright?” He asks.

“Apartment hunting in the middle of a global pandemic is the _worst_ ,” she explains, sliding the iPad away from her and grimacing at it with a disgusted scoff. 

“Really?” Matt asks in surprise. “You love house hunting. If anything I thought a new place might give you something interesting to look forward to.”

“I normally do! When I can actually physically tour the space.” An exhausted exhale escapes her while she twists her watch band around her wrist. “But no one is doing actual tours anymore. They’re all _virtual_ now.”

His face scrunches, mirroring her disgust from earlier. “Virtual?”

“Yes, _virtual._ I’ve gone on so many _virtual_ tours that they all blend together into some sort of Frankenstein’s Monster of an apartment. It’s hard enough deciding to leave my place but what if the new place I pick is actually terrible and I don’t realize it until I move in?”

She sounds stressed and he can tell by the way she looks away from him and down at her watch that she’s nervous. She’s assured him she’s looking forward to having her own place but he knows it’s been a long time since she’s lived alone. He also knows her current apartment holds a lot of memories for her -- memories with Otis, Foster... _Antonio_. Something uncomfortable scratches at his chest at that last thought. He shoves it aside and focuses on _her_. 

“Maybe there’s another way to find a place?” He asks. “Maybe somebody around here knows someone looking to break their lease. Might could arrange for a tour if it’s someone we know.”

“True,” she replies thoughtfully. “It’s just a lot more work to track down leads that way. But it wouldn’t hurt to put out some feelers, I guess.”

“I have a few clients I can check in with,” Matt offers. “I don’t know if any of them have properties available but it’s worth a shot.”

Her face softens -- brow smoothing out, smile warming. Her head tilts to the side as she smiles causing a swooping feeling in his gut. “That would be a big help, Matt Casey. Thank you.”

He nods slightly and then looks away from her before she spots his blush, focusing on the paperwork in front of him. “Of course.”

She takes a deep breath, picks up her iPad, and presses a hand into the table as she stands. “Guess I’d better go find Nelson and get started on inventory.” She rolls her eyes. “And kill his hopes of rearranging _my_ ambo. See you later.”

“Yeah, later,” he replies, ducking his head until she’s turned her back on him. As soon as he knows she’s not looking, his eyes find her and follow her out of the room.

What does it mean when he can’t stop himself from offering his help when she’s faced with the _smallest_ complication? He knows she doesn't really _need_ it. She can handle herself. But he has the uncontrollable urge to make her life as easy as he possibly can. He knows that’s not normal, but he can’t help it.

******

Another week after Foster’s departure and Sylvie’s moved on to a second new partner. This one is the opposite of Nelson. Meek and timid and afraid of everything. Sylvie was told to evaluate her and report her thoughts back to Hatcher. While Parker is very nice, it doesn’t seem to be going well.

They’re halfway through shift when a knock sounds at his door and he looks up to find Sylvie leaning against the door jamb, iPad in hand.

“I need a break from Parker,” Sylvie tells him when he looks up. “You mind if I hide out in here?”

A tilted smile pulls at one corner of his lips and he shakes his head while motioning to his cot. “Be my guest.”

“She’s very sweet, but the more time I spend with her the guiltier I feel about having to report to Hatcher at the end of next week,” Sylvie confesses with a wince. “She knows her stuff but she does not have the stomach for an intense house.”

“I’ve noticed,” he agrees, apologetically.

“On the bright side,” she says as she beams at him -- causing a flutter in his chest. “I think I found a couple of leads on an apartment!”

She looks down at her iPad and he takes a moment to observe her. Her blonde hair slips out from behind her ears and falls into her face, her teeth are gently nipping at her bottom lip while a soft grin tugs the corners of her mouth upward. She’s gorgeous. So gorgeous that the sight of her makes him ache sometimes. His hands itch to touch but he doesn’t dare cross that line without a sign from her.

“Here,” she says as she turns the iPad to face him. “One of these actually came from a client of yours so thanks for that. And the second one is Olivia’s place. You remember Olivia, right?”

Hard to forget, if he’s honest. He chuckles and nods. “Your friend you tried to set me up with? Yes, I remember her.”

Sylvie blushes. He can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or something else entirely. But, regardless, a bright shade of red spreads across her cheeks. “Right, well, _anyway_...she’s quarantining with her boyfriend and wants to break her lease. I’ve been over there a couple of times for dinner or the occasional _The Bachelor_ viewing party--”

He interrupts her with a soft laugh. He knows Kidd’s conned Severide into watching that show with her. He’s not surprised Sylvie enjoys it too.

“Shut up, it’s surprisingly compelling,” she tells him with a grin and a playful glare. “Someday I’ll talk you into watching an episode and you’ll see just how addictive it is for yourself.”

“Good luck with that,” he tells her with a snort.

“Just take the iPad and flip through the pictures, _Captain_ ,” she quips with a teasing roll of her eyes.

He accepts the iPad she’s offering him, with her photo roll open, and then swipes a finger through them. The first apartment is nice. Open floor plan, lots of windows. But it’s very bland. Flat white walls, fixtures that look _dated_ instead of vintage, a radiator that looks so old he’s afraid it’ll break at the slightest bump or possibly catch fire. Maybe it wouldn’t but the landlord should consider replacing it -- for safety.

Overall, it’s not bad. But it has no character. It doesn’t scream _Sylvie_. Not to him. 

“Which one is this first one?” He asks.

“The one from your clients,” she answers. “It’s small but the open floor plan makes it appear roomy, I like that. And the closets are great. It’s hard to find one walk in, let alone two. It’s also a really great neighborhood, but…”

“But?” He asks when she trails off.

“It’s a little pricey for how dated the kitchens and bathrooms are and the appliances in the kitchen look like they haven’t been updated in at least twenty years--”

“Plus, that radiator under the window looks like a fire hazard waiting to happen,” Matt adds as he turns the photo around and shows it to her. “Also might mean the air conditioning is less than ideal. Not exactly what you want in a place you’ll be moving into right before a Chicago summer heatwave.”

She winces and nods vigorously. “Yeah, you’re completely right. Good catch! Okay, so apartment number one is out. But look at the next one! I’m dying to know what you think!”

He keeps swiping until he reaches a picture of a quaint little place with hardwood floors and floral wallpaper in the kitchen. There’s cream colored moldings and a couple of built in shelves in the living room. It also features an intricate mantle above a sealed up fireplace. It’s certainly feminine but not overtly so. There’s an accent wall that’s a dramatic dark burgundy that contrasts against the old fashioned design in a distinctly modern way. Rustic yet soft, feminine yet robust, old yet new. It’s a beautiful assembly of contradictions that shouldn’t work, but do. 

There’s not a single thing bland about this apartment. It has the character the first place didn’t _and then some_. It feels like a place that could be distinctly _Sylvie_.

He can tell by the way she’s watching him that she _wants_ him to like it. He smiles softly to himself, reveling in the idea that his opinion seems to have so much weight with her. It feels good to be important to someone -- especially someone like her.

“This is older than the first place,” Matt says observantly.

She nods. “But it’s been well maintained so I’m not so much concerned with the age. Well, I’m a little concerned with the age but only because--Now, don’t laugh--”

“I make no promises.”

She chuckles and then narrows her eyes on him. “Fair enough. I’m only concerned with the age because it means small closets -- _if_ there are any closets at all.”

She’s right. Older homes didn’t have much in the way of closet space. He’s done enough closet additions around town to be well aware of that fact.

“It does seem very _you_ , though,” he tells her with a soft smile. “Will Olivia let you tour the place?”

She nods. “She says she can meet me after next shift. It’s been a while since Olivia had any of us over there and I probably could use a reminder of what it looks like in person. Plus, pictures don’t show you the little details like how many outlets there are and where they’re placed. If it’s older then the number of outlets might be an issue. You know, things like that.”

He does know. The first place he bought to fix up for himself and Hallie had that problem. Outlets in odd places or barely any in some rooms at all. It seems like a tiny detail but it isn’t. “Would you like some company?”

“Really?” She asks, tilting her head and pinning him with an assessing gaze. “You want to spend one of your mornings off touring an apartment with me?”

She looks skeptical and it bothers him. He doesn’t want her to be skeptical of his support. He wants her to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’ll be there for her whenever he can. “Yeah, I don’t mind. Plus, I thought maybe my point of view might help. I’ve renovated more than a few of these older units over the years. If you want someone who can spot any possible future issues then I’m your guy.”

She releases a slow relieved breath as he hands her back the iPad and nods. “I would love that actually. Thank you, Matt.”

“Anytime,” he replies.

It’s a promise not a platitude. Though, he doubts she realizes that.

******

At the end of next shift, they leave her car at the Firehouse and take his truck to Olivia’s place. Olivia is waiting outside, mask on, keys in her hand. At the sight of him walking in Sylvie’s wake, she hooks a finger in her mask and lowers it just long enough to give Sylvie a questioning look. Sylvie’s cheeks turn pink -- he can spot it even under her mask -- and she ducks her head with a subtle shake.

He notices, though she thinks he didn’t.

Olivia pulls her mask back up over her nose with a flat look and a quirked brow that reminds him too much of Severide. She drops the keys in Sylvie’s hands and gives her directions on how to get to Apartment 4B.

“Take your time,” Olivia says. “I’ll be in my car. I’ve got a bunch of phone calls to make. I’m still trying to figure out how to get those virtual classes going I told you about. I found a couple of interested investors and I’ve got a conference call with them for the next half hour at least. So, seriously, no rush.”

“Thanks, Olivia, I really appreciate this. If this place is as adorable as I remember, then you’ve just rescued me from dipping too far into my savings,” Sylvie says.

“You’ve got that backwards. With my gym shut down, _you’re_ the one saving _me_. My budget cannot take paying rent on this place _and_ the gym for another month,” Olivia assures her. “Come find me when you’re done.”

They head inside. There’s a tiny lobby on the bottom floor with black and white linoleum and a currently vacant mail desk. To the left of the desk is a small, clearly older, elevator. But it’s a smooth ride to the fourth floor. He remembers Sylvie saying Olivia’s apartment was well maintained and it seems the rest of the building is too. Hopefully, that means a quality landlord.

The fourth floor hallway is covered in the same black and white linoleum with cream moldings that match the pictures Sylvie showed him of the apartment. It’s a very vintage aesthetic that he could see Sylvie finding homey.

A wistful sigh escapes her as soon as the door opens and Matt knows this is it. No problem short of a pest infestation is going to keep Sylvie from choosing this place. Which means it’s just become his job to find solutions instead of problems. Lucky for her, he’s very good at fixing things. Always has been.

Maybe he couldn’t bring back Julie or keep Foster from leaving, but he is more than qualified to help her turn this place into the safe space she wants it to be.

******

Four more weeks pass until Sylvie finally reaches the end of her lease. She’s on her third probationary partner. This one is all business and has no intention of trying to bond with anyone at the house -- not even Sylvie. After two partners that caused their own frustrations, Sylvie seems completely on board with it. They work well together and that’s all that matters. Perry knows she won’t be sticking around for long and doesn’t seem to care.

Which is exactly why Boden decides to keep her around longer than the others.

He wants Sylvie’s next partner to be a permanent placement -- a good fit for all of 51. Cruz seemed particularly happy at that news, though he refused to share _why_. And honestly, it wasn’t any of Casey’s concern. Cruz is one of Severide’s guys. Whatever he’s up to is his best friend’s problem. _Not his_.

Okay, that’s a little harsh. Severide’s problems are Matt’s problems...but today he’s feeling a little resentful. It’s not Severide’s fault that Matt has meetings with prospective clients all day, and can’t help Sylvie pack up her old place. It’s not Severide’s fault that people are wanting to get projects done while they quarantine or that Casey leads one of the few small construction crews that can quickly pivot to all the new regulations.

No, none of that is Severide’s fault.

But _Severide_ is the one over at Brett’s old place instead of him, frantically patching holes in the walls so Sylvie and Cruz can get their security deposit back.

So, _maybe_ he’s a bit jealous.

Maybe.

He finishes his third meeting of the day and then loops back around to the first one to drop off his bid. As soon as that’s done, he dials Sylvie.

“Hey!” She says brightly.

“Hey,” he replies, unable to suppress a smile. “I just finished up for the day. Do you guys still need a hand?”

“Oh, um, no actually, we’re good. Just finished up. Joe and Chloe are gonna stay for a bit, but everyone else is heading home. I think Joe just wants us to take a moment to say goodbye, you know? At least if I was here he could come back and visit but now…”

“But now it’s another piece of Otis he has to let go of,” Matt says, sympathetically finishing her sentence.

“That _we_ have to let go of,” Sylvie replies, gently correcting him. “I don’t particularly want to let it go either. Anyway, go home. I’ll need you bright and early in the morning so I’ll just see you and your truck then.”

He willfully ignores the twinge in his gut at the idea of Sylvie spending the night mourning Otis because he can tell by the sound of her voice that this is something she and Cruz need to do on their own. Instead, he lets a small grin overtake his face and the very specific mention of his truck.

“See, by the sound of that, you don’t actually need _me_ just my truck. I see how it is.”

She laughs and he likes the sound of that so much better than the heartbroken tone he heard in her voice a moment ago.

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, you see I also need help putting the boxes _in_ your truck. And that’s where _you_ come in.”

“So, free manual labor?”

“Not totally free. I am more than willing to pay you with food,” she teases. “See you tomorrow, Matt.”

“See you tomorrow.”

They hang up and despite having not seen her at all, he still drives home with a huge smile on his face. He really needs to sit down and figure himself out because the way Sylvie Brett seems to affect his mood is getting out of hand.

Not that he minds.

And maybe that’s the crux of it.

******

“This is the last of the boxes,” Matt says as he walks in her open door. “It says ‘clutter’ so I don’t exactly know where to put it.” He grins at her as he points out the word written in permanent marker on the top of the box. “Never seen anyone pack up and _label_ their clutter before.”

She laughs with a sheepish grin. “Uh, well, you know, not everything has a place. This is my box of things that don’t have a place. You can just set that down on the coffee table for now. I’ll go through it later.”

Kidd and Severide had been by earlier to help unload boxes and unpack a few of them, but Sylvie sent them home a half hour ago. She tried to send him home too, but he refused.

“You’re not gonna get all of this unpacked by yourself,” he’d told her.

He wasn’t even sure just the two of _them_ could unpack it all. She had more stuff than he anticipated. She and Stella had already sorted out the bedroom and the bathroom. There was just the living room and the kitchen left. She had a few pieces of furniture that needed to be built still and artwork to hang. But it was too late today, she claimed, to build any furniture. She didn’t want to disturb any of her neighbors.

“It’s only six,” Matt says, glancing down at his watch. “Surely, that’s fair game.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sylvie replies with a scoff. “When I moved in with Otis and Joe, we were putting together our entertainment center -- because it came from Ikea and god forbid anything be preassembled--”

He chuckled at her sarcasm and cut open one of her boxes labeled ‘kitchen’ as she continued her story.

“So it’s barely seven o’clock, and we’re hammering in these stupid little pegs on the base of the unit, when there’s a knock at our door. I answer it because, while neither Joe nor Otis really know how to swing a hammer, I’m the woman and their pride won’t let them concede I know more about tools than they do.”

He shakes his head and bites back another laugh, remembering Joe and Otis trying to help him on a jobsite a few years back. She’s right. They know nothing.

“Anyway, I answer the door and almost as soon as I do, this woman starts screaming at me. _What the hell are you doing up here? Are there elephants marching around? I have an exam to study for and you are making it impossible_. As politely as I can, I apologize and let her know that we’re still moving in and building a piece of furniture. We were almost done at that point so I promised her it wouldn’t be much longer. And she left.” Her dry smirk tells him the story isn’t over.

“Let me guess, she came back a few minutes later?”

“Not even five minutes later. This time Otis comes with me, because he was incredibly good at charming people when he wanted to be. I mean, the words _final sale_ meant nothing to him. I can’t tell you how many non-refundable items he helped me return.”

Matt gives up sorting through the box and laughs quietly as he focuses his attention on Sylvie. When his eyes find hers, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and then shakes herself slightly, getting back to the story.

“We open the door and she’s standing there, tears _streaming_ down her face. No screaming this time, just obnoxiously loud sobbing. _I am under so much stress you do not understand. If I’m not able to study because of your noise I’ll have to call the cops._ So Otis does his thing, but instead of calming her down suddenly she’s irate and screaming again. _I swear to god I’ll call the cops. I have friends that are police. I’ll have you arrested_. Just out of control nonsense. So, _Otis_ slams the door in her face.”

He snorts through a laugh and his eyes widen. “Bet that went over real well.”

“She screamed at our door for a few more minutes before going back down stairs. But even still that wasn’t the end of it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Matt asks in disbelief.

“I wish!” Sylvie says as she walks over to her fridge and grabs a couple of beers. She hands one to him and opens the other for herself. “We didn’t know this, but a patrolman lived across the hall. So not long after she leaves, he knocks on our door and asks us about the noise she was complaining about. Well, by now the noise has stopped because we just finished with the entertainment center. All we had left to do was lift it up and move it into place. We open the door wider and explain it to the officer, showing him the finished unit and a stack of unpacked boxes. He nods and says he understands and that as long as it isn’t too late in the evening our neighbors will just have to be understanding. He briefly mentions that he’ll go downstairs and see if he can calm our neighbor down. We say we’d appreciate that and assume that’s the end of it. We get the unit into place and we start filling the shelves and, wouldn’t you know it--”

Casey’s eyes widen as he sits down at her kitchen table, now fully caught up in her story. “Jesus Christ, she came back _again_?”

Sylvie nods with a comically frustrated expression, sitting down in the chair next to his. “This time yelling and crying while accusing us of calling the cops on her. She was hysterical. Beyond reasoning with. Luckily for us, the patrolman across the hall heard it and stepped out of his apartment. He asked her to go back to her apartment or else he’d have to take her in. Just as she’s starting to refuse her boyfriend shows up, looking for her, and the patrolman asks _him_ to get her back downstairs and then he escorts them both away from our apartment. He came back later to tell us he was going to talk to the landlord and file a complaint against her because her yelling at us was more disruptive than us building our furniture. The next day we get a call with an apology from the landlord and you know what he said?”

“This story keeps getting more and more ridiculous. Do I want to know?” He asks.

“She wasn’t even on the lease,” Sylvie tells him, not bothering to wait for an answer. “She was a guest in the building _not_ a resident. We think the guy living downstairs broke up with her not long after that because we saw him all the time but never saw her again. Thank God. So, moral of the story, never build furniture in an upper level apartment after the sun starts to go down. You never know when you might have a crazy downstairs neighbor.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Until Severide’s I’ve lived in townhouses and condos, never had to deal with downstairs or upstairs neighbors.”

She gives him a dry look and a playful glare. “I’m so happy for you and not at all jealous.”

He laughs again and nearly chokes on a sip of his beer. He can’t remember laughing more than he has with her tonight. Not recently anyway. Despite lifting heavy things and arranging furniture, he feels completely relaxed and at home. As they’ve gotten closer over the last couple of years, she’s somehow become one of the few people who can put him completely at ease. He can be himself without fear of reproach. Even if _himself_ is a huge awkward idiot who never seems to know what to do with his hands.

“Well then I guess I’ll have to come back in the middle of the day tomorrow and help you put it all together,” Matt declares, meeting her eyes again. “What else do you want to get done tonight?”

“Just the kitchen and then we can call it night I think. I can situate the living room later. And if you really are coming back by tomorrow--”

“I am,” he insists.

She blushes prettily and nods. “Great. Then I guess you can help me hang a few things as well. I’ve never been good at hanging pictures straight on the first attempt.”

“Got you covered,” Matt assures her. 

And he does. He comes back the next day and they spend it building a desk and a couple of bookshelves. He hangs mirrors and artwork for her. She bought a set of shelves to go over her commode for washcloths and other bathroom essentials, he hangs those along with a few floating shelves in the kitchen and bedroom.

As he works, he makes a mental note of ways he could improve her space. Nothing elaborate. She’s renting so any major work is out of the question but he can spot one or two changes he can make that any good landlord would be fine with and he _knows_ Sylvie will love. He’ll have to come back for those another day.

They finish up around dinnertime. Sylvie pulls out a stack of takeout menus from a folder in one of her kitchen drawers. He gives her an amused look at the way her compulsion to organize things extends all the way to paper take out menus. She grins shyly and shrugs. “They’re organized by type of cuisine and then price,” she explains. “Do you wanna stay for dinner? My treat. I mean you’ve spent nearly your entire 48 off helping me, you deserve more than just a thank you.”

“I don’t even need a thank you,” he replies, smiling widely. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“Well, I appreciate it anyway,” she tells him. “So, dinner?”

He nods. Is there a better way to spend his time than hanging out with her? Definitely not. “Absolutely.”

“Great! How do you feel about Japanese?”

******

It takes him longer than he wanted to make it back to her place with just _one_ of the changes he promised himself he’d make. But both his jobs have been hectic. They’ve got new protocols thanks to COVID that they’re still adapting to and his construction business has been booming. When he’s not at the firehouse he’s on a jobsite. Eventually he knows the quarantine project phase will end and business will dry up as people’s budgets dwindle. He’s trying to strike while the iron’s hot.

But it’s running him ragged and he knows the time is coming where he can either choose to take a break or collapse from exhaustion. 

He knocks on her door. He knows she’s home. Kidd was gushing about some sort of baking project Sylvie had been posting photos of on Instagram.

She opens the door with a pleasantly surprised expression. “Matt! Did I know you were coming over?”

There’s flour on her cheek and streaks of different colors on her apron. Possibly icing? He can’t be sure.

He takes in her appearance with a mirthful grin but shakes his head to answer her question. “No, just took a shot you’d be home. Do you mind if I come in?”

“No, please,” she says as she walks away from the door to allow him inside. He closes the door behind him and then follows her to the kitchen where he sees bowls full of different colored batters and icings. “Did you need something?”

“Well, actually,” he starts to explain but stops. Too distracted by the set up in her kitchen. “Okay, what is this?”

She chuckles and lifts her shoulders with feigned carelessness. “Foster’s coming to visit this weekend and she’s bummed they had to cancel the Pride Parade so I thought...you know, we’d have our own little Pride party. And if we’re gonna have a Pride party then why not--”

“A Pride cake?” Matt asks knowingly. “You’re making a _rainbow_ cake?”

The way she continually goes out of her way for the people she cares about will never stop amazing him. Even something as small as a special cake.

She nods eagerly and then points to each bowl. “Six different color batters for six thin layers, and then I’m gonna do a basic buttercream icing. Fun, right?”

“Foster will love it,” he replies in approval. 

“Thank you,” she says with a faint blush. “So, what brings you by?”

“Door knobs,” he answers.

“Door knobs?” She asks, with a confused pinched expression.

“Last time I was here I noticed the door knobs on your bathroom and bedroom doors don’t really turn or lock. Thought I’d replace them,” he tells her, holding up a paper bag from his preferred hardware store. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“No, I--that’s really sweet, Matt,” Sylvie replies, appearing genuinely touched. “Thank you. Let me know how much you spent. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving her off. “I also got one for your hall closet. Just a decorative glass one. The current one is loose, if I’m remembering right, and the glass seemed like your style.”

“You’d be very right about that,” she says with a nod and a bright smile.

“It’ll take me about a half hour to an hour to replace them if you’ve got the time,” Matt says, modestly ducking his head to look away from her grateful gaze.

“I’ve got nothing but time. I mean obviously, I’m making a six layer rainbow cake.”

He laughs and nods. “Yeah, I don’t imagine you’re going anywhere anytime soon, are you?”

“Not until the layers are baked and cooling, no. Matt, you really didn’t have to go out of your way to do this. I know you’ve been swamped lately. You shouldn’t waste your downtime on me,” she tells him, giving him a concerned once over. “No offense but you look... _depleted_.”

“I’m not _wasting_ my time. I like helping you out, Sylvie. If I didn’t _want_ to do it then I wouldn’t,” he replies. His tone is clipped and his words sound more irritated than he intends. He winces and then shakes his head. “That came out all wrong. I just...it’s important to me that you know I’m here because I choose to be. This is how I _want_ to spend my off time. And also you’re right, I’m _exhausted_. My trip wire might be a little more sensitive than normal.”

She focuses a soft smile on him and nods in sympathetic understanding. “I hear you loud and clear. I _do_ appreciate all the help you’ve given me, Matt. I’m just...not used to it, that’s all. And from now on I’ll be careful to avoid any landmines. Replacing my door knobs was a great idea. I almost bought a latch to put on the bathroom door the other day. I was afraid of guests accidentally walking in on each other -- whenever I can really have guests again, that is -- so you’ve got impeccable timing.”

He breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn’t take offense to his outburst and gives her an apologetic glance. “Thank you. I’ll just get started. Let you get back to your cake.”

Jesus, he’s an idiot. A very tried idiot. He has the door knobs switched out within an hour, and he leaves the original knobs with Sylvie in case they’ll have to be put back on if there’s ever a day she moves out. Just as he’s walking her way he notices her pulling two cake pans out of the oven and setting them on wire racks to cool, along with four other round and thin cake pans.

“And now I just have to wait forever for them to cool,” Sylvie tells him with an impatient eyeroll. “I’ve never been good at this part. I always try to ice cakes too soon and then the icing melts. Do you want something to drink? I have beer, water, and soda.”

“I don’t want to get in your way--”

“You’re not in my way. The only thing I have to do now is wait,” she assures him. “You wanna stay and hang out? You look like you could use a break. I have an overflowing DVR I haven’t watched yet and plenty of room on my couch.”

God, does that ever sound amazing. Just a day of sitting around and watching TV? When was the last time he did that?

He smirks at her with a shrug. “Depends on what you’re wanting to watch.”

“I have a DVR full of _Bachelor In Paradise_ waiting to be watched.”

“What _the hell_ is that?”

“It’s like if you combined _The Bachelor_ with _Big Brother_ but took away the competition element,” she explains, crossing the kitchen to the fridge and pulling out two beers.

“That sounds _god awful_ ,” Matt says with an overdramatic grimace.

“Oh, it is,” Sylvie agrees. “That’s why I love it.”

He thinks about it for a moment and decides an afternoon of sitting side by side with Sylvie Brett is completely worth it. “As long as you swear never to breathe a word of this to Severide or Kidd.”

She laughs and places a hand over her heart in a solemn promise. “I so swear.”

“Then you’ve got a deal,” Matt agrees as she hands him the second beer. 

She’s right. It may be a god awful show but it’s strangely addictive. He teases her about it as they watch but by the end of one episode he’s caught up in the over the top nature of it too. He drifts off halfway through episode number three. He’s not sure for how long, but wakes up to find his mostly finished beer on a coaster on the coffee table, his body stretched out over the couch, a throw pillow under his head, and a blanket tucked snugly around him.

The sounds of Sylvie moving around in her kitchen fill the air as he opens one eye. He can immediately tell it’s later in the day. The sun coming through her wall of windows casts more of a dark orange glow and it’s sitting lower in the sky. Judging by that alone he’s been asleep for a couple of hours at least. On someone else’s couch, in someone else’s apartment.

Jesus, that’s embarrassing.

It’s been a long time since he’s just _fallen asleep_ somewhere unfamiliar. 

Then again, this place isn’t that unfamiliar, is it? 

It’s _Sylvie_. He’s surrounded by her. Here, in this space, every sense is filled with her.

When she’s not turning him into a nervous school boy with a crush, being around her relaxes him. Just being near her is reassuring. So reassuring that he let himself succumb to his exhaustion while he sat next to her on the couch.

He props himself up on his elbows and glances around the room. He spots her in the kitchen icing one layer of her cake. It doesn’t take long for her to notice he’s moved.

“You’re up!” She greets. “I hope you don’t mind I let you sleep? You looked wiped and I couldn’t make myself wake you up. Seemed like you needed it.”

“I did need it,” he admits. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Matt, really,” she says as she stops icing her cake to meet his eyes across the room. “You’ve done so much for me over the last year that letting you sleep on my couch is the _least_ I could do.”

He wants to protest and remind her she doesn’t owe him anything or have to pay him back in kind. He shows up for her because he cares about her -- because seeing her happy or making her life easier makes _him_ happy. But the moment and their lingering stare passes before he can manage to push the words past his lips.

“Feel like helping me ice these cakes?” She asks, looking away from him with a nervous chuckle. “I think I bit off more than I can chew.”

He laughs and pushes himself off the couch. He folds the blanket before he makes his way over to her. “Making a cake isn’t exactly a _piece of cake_ , huh?”

She stops what she’s doing and laughs much harder than his lame joke requires.

“God, that was such a dad joke,” she says, head pitching forward as her laughter continues. “A really _horrible_ dad joke.”

“Hey! Dad jokes are where I shine! Let me have this one.”

“Seriously? That’s really where you wanna plant your comedy flag?” She asks through a rolling snicker. “Dad jokes?”

“Do you want my help or not?” He asks, grinning crookedly at her as he steps into the kitchen.

“Of course I do, but while we work I’d like to hear some of these dad jokes you claim to be so good at.”

******

As August approached his offers for construction work dropped off. May, June, and July had been busy months. The only time Matt truly had off from his job sites was a handful of days around the Fourth of July. Which Sylvie always spends in Fowlerton and, despite the Pandemic, this year was no exception. Molly’s being closed didn’t help. Normally, even if he didn’t plan on seeing her he knew he still would. At Molly’s. But Molly’s was no longer a guarantee.

Which meant for nearly all of July he saw her at work and nowhere else.

But finally now, he’s allowed time to breath again.

Which brings him to the other thing he wanted to improve in Sylvie’s apartment.

The cabinet hardware.

This time he tells her his idea in advance and brings a catalogue to work so she can point out the hardware sets she likes. He can’t guarantee he’ll get one of those exact sets but at least this way he’ll know what to look for. With the catalogue rolled up in his jacket pocket he goes to the store and finds a set that’s strikingly similar to her top pick.

He pays and then heads to her place, making the now familiar journey to Apartment 4B. He takes the elevator, steps off into the chess floor hallway, and then turns the corner -- smiling to himself all the while. No matter what else goes on in his life, he always looks forward to seeing _her_. He knows it’s past time he admits that to himself, and possibly to her as well.

But changing something that actually _works_ is hard. What if he changes it and ruins it? There’s no way to take this particular change back. You don’t fix something that isn’t broken, right? But what if that perfectly working thing could work a hundred times better with just one simple adjustment? Every day he leans closer to thinking that one simple adjustment has to be worth it. If it could possibly turn into everything he’s been wishing for his entire life then why shouldn’t he take a chance at it?

He raises a fist to knock at her door but he swings open before he can.

“Hey!” She says as she steps aside and lets him in. “I saw your truck pull up. Come on in.”

Her bare feet and exposed shoulders distract him for a moment, leaving him frozen in her doorway. She’s wearing cropped jeans and a striped cotton top with thin straps that do a complicated criss-cross over her back. There’s more of her exposed skin in front of him than he’s ever seen before.

God bless summertime in Chicago. 

He shakes himself and hopes his tongue wasn’t hanging out of his mouth. He swears he’s not a dog or one of _those_ men who makes a habit out of ogling women. He doesn’t. Isn’t. But with Sylvie…

She’s distractingly beautiful nearly all the time. And, while she knows she’s attractive, she doesn’t flaunt it. She’s not totally modest but not entirely confident either. Yet another contradiction that he’ll most likely contemplate in the middle of the night when his thoughts become too loud.

He steps inside the apartment and closes the door behind him.

“So,” she says, turning to face him -- eagerly bouncing on the balls of her feet and beaming like a kid on Christmas. His stomach flips and his smile widens to match hers. “What did you get? Show me, show me, show me!”

He laughs and hands her the brown paper bag. “Take a look for yourself.”

She opens the bag and peeks inside. Delight brightens her features and he feels an unreasonable amount of accomplishment at the sight of it. Really, Casey, this is getting ridiculous.

“Oh! It’s perfect! Just the right mix of retro and contemporary! How much do I owe you?”

He huffs and quirks a brow at her with a wry smirk. “Once again, nothing. Hardware’s not pricey. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me,” she insists. “Come on, you bought the door knobs already, let me pay you for these.”

He shakes his head. “No. This was my idea so it’s my project. Consider this and the door knobs a housewarming present if that makes you feel any better.”

A drawn out resigned sigh escapes her and a slow closed mouth smile spreads across her full lips. The blue of her irises warms and softens, while a dimple pops up on her cheek. His chest aches and his hands clench as the urge to touch overwhelms him.

“You’re too good, Matt Casey,” she says, shaking her head at him with a look of amazement. “Okay, fine. We’ll call it a housewarming present, but no more spending _your money_ on _my_ apartment. Deal?”

He nods his head as a signal that he accepts her terms. “Deal.”

She camps out on the kitchen floor next to him as he takes the cabinet doors off and replaces the hinges. She knows her way around a set of tools so she hands him the appropriate things without him even having to ask. It’s a wordless kind of cooperation that he’s never experienced before. 

They talk about their weeks while they work. His construction jobs, her volunteering at the food bank down the street. The foodbank was a recent discovery but she’s enjoying putting together care packages and delivering them to families in need or somedays manning the drive up food bank. It’s gotten her familiar with her new neighborhood and introduced her to a handful of new truly good people. Two things, that she thinks, would have taken a lot longer to accomplish without the pandemic. She tells him she hates that the world has to go through this but she loves seeing people come together to help others in ways they might not have before.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s silly or naive, but...” she says as she correctly hands him the Phillips head screwdriver without him having to ask. “I just love seeing the tangible proof of something I’ve always believed. It feels validating, in spite of everything else going on in the world, to watch real people pulling together to take care of their neighbors. Chicago may be the big city, but there’s a lot of Fowlerton to be found around here. It’s nice to be reminded that most people are truly good. You know?”

He smiles fondly at her for a lingering moment, staring in wonder at the faith in her expression. After everything she’s been through, you’d think some part of her would be bitter or resentful, but no. She’s still the same hopeful and optimistic person she’s always been. She has no idea how truly _rare_ that is...but he does. There have been points in his life where _he’s_ been that bitter and resentful person in the last couple of years. The closer he and Sylvie became the more that part of him faded. Her outlook on life is addictive and contagious. Honestly, he’s beginning to crave her point of view. With everything they see day in and day out, her encouragement makes it bearable. 

She bites her bottom lip and looks away when the moment drags on a bit too long.

He clears his throat to move past the tension crackling between, maintaining his smile. “You’re not naive or in any way silly,” Matt assures her. “You’re remarkable, that’s what you are. _Impressive_. You managed to make it seem like 2020 hasn’t been the year from hell. That’s an accomplishment.”

She chuckles hoarsely with a halfhearted strug. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

“I mean it, though,” he tells her, meeting her eyes with an earnest gaze. “You _are_ remarkable. Not a lot of people see the world the way you do. That’s a _good_ thing, Sylvie.”

“Yeah, well, not a lot of people go as far out of their way for their friends as you do. That’s _remarkable_ too,” she replies, moving her hair out of her eyes. “It means more than you know.”

Should he tell her he doesn’t do this for _all_ his friends? Is this the right moment to let her know how _exceptional_ she actually is to him? He’s about to do just that when a knock sounds at her door, cutting off the moment.

“That’s probably lunch,” Sylvie says with a sheepish smile and a blush. “I ordered from the deli on the corner. You’re gonna love it. It’s my new obsession.”

She rises up off the floor and rushes to the door. When she’s gone Matt blows out a frustrated breath. How many more of these moments is he going to let pass him by? Why is this so difficult? He’s a grown man, for Christ’s sake. Not a kid with a crush.

He overhears Sylvie asking the delivery person about their elderly grandmother. She clearly orders from this place a lot. He chuckles as his stomach swoops for the second time that day. She not only remembers the delivery person’s name but knows enough about them to check in on their family? Maybe he isn’t a kid with a crush, but he certainly feels like one. Especially when faced with her unfailing kindness.

Jesus, he’s hopeless.

******

September brings backyard bonfires gone wrong. People burning leaves, making end of summer s’mores, burning old financial documents in fire barrels. (Yes, that last one happened. Apparently, shredding is no longer good enough.) But it also brings relaxed restrictions and Sylvie is eager to show off her new apartment.

She invites Kidd, Severide, and himself over for dinner.

When they arrive they find a Thanksgiving style dinner laid out on her table. All three of them give her the same mirthful but unsurpised stare.

“I might have overdone it,” she admits, bashfully.

“You think?” Stella asks.

“I was excited!” She exclaims defensively, with a nervous laugh. “Plus, everybody loves Thanksgiving, right? You can’t go wrong with turkey, stuffing, and creamed potatoes.”

Severide snorts and points a teasing grin at her. “You’re an adorable mix of June Cleaver and Dr. Quinn, you know that right?”

“Yes!” Kidd agrees, elbowing Sylvie playfully. “With a little Disney Princess sprinkled on top!”

Sylvie blushes but smiles brightly at their teasing. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. Let me get plates and silverware and we can dig in.”

“I’ll help you,” Matt says, immediately springing into action and heading straight for the cabinet he knows holds her dinnerware.

They work in tandem to gather plates, silverware, and glasses. They set them out on the table, coordinating without speaking. When they’re done Matt looks up to find both Kidd and Severide wearing matching knowing grins. 

“Been over here a lot, Casey?” Stella asks, smirking with raised brows.

“He’s helped me with a few improvements,” Brett explains, giving him a kind smile while mercifully sparing him from stumbling through a lame explanation. “And he’s the one who originally helped me unpack the kitchen in the first place.”

Kidd gives them both a tired look. “Uh huh. Sure.” Severide discreetly pokes her in the side and she squirms before a friendly smile appears on her face and she tries again. “I mean, _sure_! That makes total sense!”

Yeah, Severide and Kidd are definitely onto him. _Fuck_.

They eat, play a few rounds of a game called Heads Up that Stella and Sylvie seem to love, and then clean up. As they’re leaving, Severide turns to face him with a curious smile.

“So, you seem pretty comfortable at Brett’s place,” he says while they wait for the elevator. “You know where everything is in her kitchen, at least.”

“Yeah, Casey, that’s real interesting,” Kidd adds, smirking. “How did that happen?”

“It’s like she said, I helped with a few improvements. That’s all. Helped her build some furniture, hang some artwork, replaced some door knobs -- you know, simple things.”

Severide nods but Matt can tell he’s not convinced.

The elevator doors open and Stella chuckles as they all step inside.

“Why do I get the feeling that isn’t the whole story?” She asks.

Matt shrugs but offers nothing additional. 

It’s _not_ the full story and everyone in the elevator knows it, but if he hasn’t told _Sylvie_ the full story yet then he’s definitely not going to tell _them_.

******

It’s Halloween. Sylvie’s least favorite work day of the year. She’s been hiding out in his quarters on and off all morning. Apparently, Perry is very enthusiastic about the holiday. She’s been showing off pictures of her ten year old son dressed up as Pennywise. Thankfully, the house had enough sense not to tell her about Sylvie’s fear of clowns. There’s no telling what Perry might do with that knowledge.

But there is one bright spot this Halloween.

Cruz has a suggestion for Brett’s new partner.

Matt’s been pulled into a meeting with Boden, Cruz, and Brett to discuss it. 

Joe makes a good case. He’s known this particularly medic her entire life. He knows she’s smart, quick on her feet, and reliable. She’s inexperienced but he believes she’d do well at 51. She’s stuck at a slower house and hasn’t been given a chance to live up to her potential yet. He thinks Brett and 61 could be the solution Gianna Mackey needs.

“It would mean training her for a busy house and the intensity of our calls,” Sylvie says, thoughtfully chewing on her bottom lip.

Boden glances from Sylvie to Casey, a barely there smile tugging at the corners of the Chief’s mouth.

“I have no doubt our PIC could handle that,” Boden tells her, pride shining in his eyes even if his smile is subtle. “You’ve been on 61 for a long time now, Brett. You’ve had some challenges, but you’ve never let them get in the way of doing your job. You’re more than capable of training someone new.”

Cruz nods his agreement. “If Gianna’s gonna be learning the ropes, then there’s no one I’d rather her learn from than you.”

She looks flattered but not surprised. She knows she’s capable at her job. She works hard at it. Why shouldn’t she know it? But hearing it stated so directly appears to be new for her. She fiddles with the black leather watchband on her wrist and ducks her head with a bashful smile.

“Thank you,” Sylvie says, first looking to Joe and then turning her focus on Boden. “I am more than willing to have her on Ambo with me. It’ll be nice to have a steady partner again and I have to admit I’d enjoy teaching someone a few tricks of the trade. Nobody knows 61 better than me. I’d be happy to work with her if you feel she’s a good fit, Chief.”

“Okay,” Boden says, lightly tapping his desk. “Then I’ll look into it.” Joe looks overjoyed for a brief moment before Boden settles a stern look at Cruz. “But I make no promises.”

Cruz nods and holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I understand. I’m just glad to hear you’re considering it. She’d fit in perfect around here. I know it.”

The meeting is dismissed and Casey hangs back, letting Cruz leave first, and follows Brett out into the empty bullpen. 

“So,” he starts as he falls into step next to her. “How do you feel about that? Training someone?”

“Pretty great actually,” she answers. “But I think I’m more excited to have a regular partner who actually _wants_ a career as a paramedic. I was starting to wonder if everyone but me used the ambulance as a fallback option. Not that I didn’t adore Emily or love working with her. Same with Mills and Borelli and...well, all of them. I did. I just felt like I was a pit stop on their way to something better.”

He blinks at her in surprise. He’d never known she’d felt that way. But even he has to admit he can see why she would. He nods and smiles supportively at her. “Well, sounds like Mackey would be in it for the long haul.”

“God, I hope so,” she says with a sigh. “I’m tired of goodbyes.”

“If it helps,” Matt tells her as they reach the bunkroom. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A smile blooms across her face and her eyes brighten to an almost electric shade of blue. They pin him in place and cause a hitch in his breathing. 

“That does help, Matt Casey. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he tells her with a warm smile and a nod.

The bells go off, calling for Ambo 61. Sylvie groans and rolls her eyes. This is their third call today. Their first two calls were the results of a couple of very convincing pranks. He’s beginning to understand why she hates Halloween as much as she does.

“I swear if this is another prankster I am going to lose it!” She exclaims, blowing out a frustrated breath. She then inhales quickly and smiles pleasantly at him, like flipping a switch. “Do I look put together and unbothered?”

A blast of unexpected laughter escapes him before he nods and replies. “Yes, you look very together and unbothered.”

“Good,” she says, tightening her tiny ponytail. “Be back later.”

He watches her sprint away from him with what he knows is a besotted grin. She somehow always surprises him. At a certain point you’d think he’d know her too well for that, but if that point exists he hasn’t found it yet. She’s wholly unexpected and he can’t get enough of her.

If only he could get his shit together and tell her that.

He sighs tiredly and runs a hand over his face. Being disappointed with himself isn’t anything new. He’s been struggling with this for _months,_ at least. Longer than that if he’s really honest.

Someday, he’ll get it right.

He just hopes he recognizes that someday when it arrives or else his window might close all together. 

No, he refuses to let that happen. He’s banked a lot of regrets over the course of his lifetime, but Sylvie Brett will _not_ be one of them.


End file.
